


Space and Sensibility

by hikarufly



Series: After Twelve Stories [13]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-10-28 19:52:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10838247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikarufly/pseuds/hikarufly
Summary: After "Thin Ice", the Doctor tries to recall adventures in Regency times, with Clara and Jane Austen.Smut is my thing, you know it is. And I miss my OTP though Bill is cool.English is not my first language.





	1. Introduction

«Special tea clothes, ah?» asked Bill. The Doctor pretended not to hear anything.

«Do you want some?» he enquired, sitting down at his armchair and gesturing her to do the same on the chair in front of him, at the other side of the desk.

«Why not? I could use a cuppa after all that!» she exclaimed, taking the one that did not have coffee in it. The Doctor tried to sip his but put it down immediately.

«Do you have clothes for every period of history?» she asked, curling up on the chair.

«I don't know, you should ask the TARDIS. It's her wardrobe.» he replied, looking at some papers.

«You look cool in 19 th century things. You look like a grown up version of the Artful Dodger. Well, maybe a grown old version, more like.» she said, thinking out loud.

«Dickens is Victorian England. We went to Regency England.» he clarified.

«Austen is Regency, you're right.» Bill said «I like her, she's like... old time feminist, witty and delicate but feisty. I love Pride and Prejudice.»

«She would have liked you.» The Doctor tried to sound casual, but there was a melancholy undertone to his voice that Bill did not miss.

«You met her?» she enquired, trying to sound not so excited.

«Long time ago. She is a very good kisser... so I was told, at least.» he told her, but he was frowning and his voice was not so sure as usual. «I am sorry, I... I can't remember it very well.»

Bill was about to ask for more, but he looked too vulnerable to continue.

«Don't worry. Maybe we can meet her again together!» she proposed, but the Doctor had his gaze lost somewhere.

«I... I am not sure.» he stood up, looking around as to find something he had dropped but not remembering what shape it had and when it fell. «Brontë! The sisters. Those will be far better suited for you.» he then exclaimed, and Bill decided that if he needed to change the subject smoothly, she would pretend he just did.

«Passionate girls... I already like this idea.»

The Doctor smiled his naughty student smile, but there were papers to be made and corrected, and after having done their duties, they separated.

He did not change, though. He looked for his copy of Persuasion, his favourite, and sat back on the chair, trying to recollect memories he knew he had lost, pieces of a puzzle he would never finish, and caressing the paper with his long fingers, he dived into the book, hoping to fill the gaps and remember Clara again.

 

 


	2. The Couch

The Doctor sat at the small couch with his legs elegantly crossed. He had a blue damask waistcoat under a coat very similar to his usual one, but with a blue lining inside, and a very elegant cravat. Clara was trying not to stare, but he was so handsome she was hardly containing herself.

«Stop it.» he whispered, smiling a little, in a low tone.

«You can't ask me to stop with that voice and with that face, and that outfit that makes your eyes even bluer.» she replied, pretending to read a book on a chair almost opposite him, by the fireplace. «That tone suggested something I am not saying out loud, because that wouldn't be ladylike.»

She was wearing a crimson Empire style dress, with a crossed-fabric design on the top. She could not have looked more cute or elegant, and he was not capable of stopping whatever could make her so unladylike, as her eyes were loud enough.

«We need to behave. We are guests here.» he declared.

«As this has ever stopped you.» she stated. He rolled his eyes and opened his arms in a frustrated gesture.

«It's Jane's house. You know how keen she is on conventions and things. You read her books.» he continued. Clara sighed.

«As you did.» she reminded him.

«Do not stop flirting because of me!» a silvery voice exclaimed. A woman came in, with a modest dress but lively manners. «I forbid it. You must continue your exchanging glances and bickering. I want it to be obligatory.»

She sat next to the Doctor with a very nice countenance, as Clara's eyes became more bright and the Doctor could not help to smile more awkwardly.

«Miss Oswald, you're pretty enough to tempt a Mr Darcy. Maybe you should find yourself a younger one.» said the woman, putting a hand on the Doctor's wrist. «I am an old spinster, I should know.»

«Miss Austen, please. If you call yourself old, the Doctor should be put under a bell jar on display in some museum.» said Clara, finally standing up and moving towards them. She sat on the other side of the couch, leaving the Doctor between the two ladies. He looked like he was afraid to get burned by two fires.

«But I am, darling. Nine and thirty, and nothing less!» she exclaimed, without letting go of the Doctor. He was beginning to be hell scared. «Time passed... and you always look as pretty and young as the day I met you both.»

Clara was keeping her fists quite tight on her lap, and even as the instinct was to try and release them, the Doctor was not really able to move – out of fear or shyness was hard to tell. Jane Austen, the famous author of, at the time, two successful novels, let go of the Doctor's and saw her other friend loose her tense demeanour.

«There is something I meant to ask you, but I never enquired, it seemed so improper of me. But we are old friends now, and... Oh, the hell with it. How long?» Miss Austen enquired. The Doctor looked at Clara, and they were both puzzled.

«How long...?» he started to say, hoping she would fill the gap.

«How long what?» Clara directly asked Jane.

«Your engagement. How long as it been now? I am sure there must be one. I published two books and written more and more about that than many, and I know when I see two people really in love.» she stated. Their mouth opened and their cheeks coloured.

«Miss Austen...» Clara started, but she gestured her to be silent.

«No excuses, Miss Oswald. I know I had a couple of glasses of wine too much at that ball a few years ago, but I know why you asked me to practice kisses.» Jane said. Clara was about to explain that she did not really wanted to practice, that it had been a squalid excuse but she could not get on with it.

«I saw you dancing. I remember you dancing together so vividly.» she continued.

When the Doctor and Clara exchanged glances again they both remembered. Mr. Beveridge’s Maggot, of course. The tune was familiar to him, as he told her that night.

 


	3. The Ball

«I never knew you could dance» said Clara that night. She had a white dress and a her hair beautifully combed. Jane had made sure she was at her best, while the Doctor had avoided her all night, excusing himself by many different improbable diseases from any woman who wanted to dance. In the end, though, Miss Austen insisted, and while the novelist had implied she was the one to get him to the dance floor, she had just remembered an important conversation she had to have somewhere else, and left him to Clara.

«Of course I can. The worst thing is you are not the first to think I was not capable of dancing.» he grunted, as he offered her his hand. Clara's smile lost a bit of light.

«What was her name?» she asked, as they got inside the line of dancers. The Doctor did not reply.

«We danced to Glenn Miller.» he remembered, thinking out loud and frowning, as they started to perform the dance. «This is easier.»

Clara did not speak, but continued moving at the right speed.

«You know what Miss Austen says of dancing?» she then said, not able to keep her mouth shut.

«Every savage can dance?» he guessed. She tried to not picture him as Darcy, but maybe it was quite too late for that.

«Right book, wrong quote.» Clara declared.

«You're such a teacher.» he grinned.

«To be fond of dancing was a certain step towards falling in love.» she quoted.

The Doctor almost lost a step.

«Of course, waltzing is all another thing.» said the Time Lord, not looking at her and then raising his gaze to meet hers. She felt a strong shiver down her spine.

«Of course.» she replied, using a witty tone she felt not sure about.

«This is very gallant and all... but the real fun is to drag the other person to be a real savage.» he explained, with another grin, and she could not help but imitate him.

Of course, he didn't really mean that. He would dance a waltz with his wife, on Darillium... but that was another story entirely.

«We can always launch ourselves in that final dance they do here... how is it called? Gallop I think.» she replied. He had a twinkle in his eyes she well knew. They finished the dance with some anticipation, when the Gallop was announced.

It was the last dance they usually did in that kind of balls. The dancers almost embraced as in a waltz, turning as a couple but rushing in circles around the room, as horses do in practice. They were usually the youngest, as the dance was tiring and wild, but the Doctor could help himself. He offered his hand to Clara again and, taking one of hers in his, put the other on her back. She let her other arm on his, and there was a moment... a moment Miss Austen had caught, before the music started and he lead her into that wonderfully messy dance. They laughed, and they tried to get back to Jane, but the TARDIS had other plans... and so they never saw her again until that moment, when she was asking that question about an engagement that she was so certain about.

 


	4. Free spirits

«Miss Oswald, are you so secretive because your parents are not keen on the Scottish?» asked Miss Austen, determined not to let this go. Clara tried not to laugh, while the Doctor's face became theatrically grave.

«I believe Mr Oswald does not even know I exist.» he started to say. «Or, now that I think about it, he met me. But I was so much younger. And naked.»

Clara almost nudge him, as Miss Austen made a naughty face.

«So... perhaps I was wrong. Maybe you already eloped to Gretna Green. You wear a wedding band, Doctor, that is extremely sweet. Where is yours, Miss Oswald? Or should I call you Mrs Smith?»

Clara did not know how to get out of that conversation. She knew that it was only curiosity and familiarity talking, but she didn't want to gave her the wrong impression or to hurt her feelings in any way. She liked her.

«I must be honest with you, Miss Austen. But I have to ask you, please, not to be judgemental about this.» started the Doctor, awfully serious. Miss Austen got serious too and nodded.

«My wife is called River.» he said, and Clara's felt her heart sink. River? He meant River Song? «She lives in Scotland now, but she is a free spirit and I am not the man who could tame her. I think there is not such a man in the entire Universe. You may now disapprove of me travelling with a young woman such as Miss Oswald, but I have a duty of care on her, on behalf of higher authorities. I can assure you she is like a ward to me and that there is nothing going on between us, except a very deep friendship.»

Jane Austen seemed to weigh up all that he had said.

«Do you love your wife, Doctor?» she asked, loosing any sort of coquettish demeanour she may have suggested in her tone, and using a serene and calm determination. He took a moment to consider.

«Our marriage is... a complicated matter.» he replied, diplomatically. «We have been through a lot, in the years, and it seems the timing is never the right one.»

«That is not what I asked.» she continued, looking at Clara for a moment.

The Doctor smiled, as he was amused but also moved.

«You asked how long have I been engaged to Miss Oswald. Your answer is that we have never been engaged.» he stated, standing up and getting to the fireplace. «If the ladies will excuse me...» he added, getting out of the room.

Jane Austen and Clara were left alone on the couch, with an empty space that stayed that way.

«Did you know he was married?» asked then Miss Austen, her was less coy and more concerned. Clara took a small breath.

«I believe I knew... he mentioned her sometimes, but never as his wife.» she recalled, from his days of aloof youthful regeneration.

«You don't look jealous as I expected you to be.» said Jane.

«Well, we are just friends, as he told you. What reason should I have to be jealous?» she chuckled, without fun in it.

Jane gave her a look that told her she could not so easily fooled.

«You seem sad, more than jealous.» he ventured.

«I guess... I guess I am. I would have liked him to tell me about her more than he actually did.» Clara said, as thinking out loud about the matter.

 


	5. Windowsill in the moonlight

Clara found the Doctor again later in the evening. They could not talk alone, though: Jane's house was filled with friends and family, and the dinner was spent talking to each other of small nothings, playing cards, singing along with someone on the piano. The Doctor seemed ready to kill himself or taking off for adventures every other minute, but thankfully Jane was always there to engage him in conversation or games, even if he was reluctant. All of this happened under the precise yet discreet scrutiny of Clara, who enjoyed pretending to be a perfect Regency girl.

They retired for the night quite late, and even though the Doctor's and Clara's room were far away, the cottage was small enough to reach the former in a few steps.

The alien and the girl from Blackpool were facing each other in the moon and candle light, fully clothed in their period costumes.

«So... River is your wife.» Clara started to say, moving slowly in the room. The Doctor had his hands behind his back, and was looking out of the window, at the dark landscape of rural England at night.

«Yes, she is.» he simply confirmed.

«And... when did this happen?» she asked, trying to be casual, pretending to check the dust on a shelf. He sneered a little.

«“When” is not the best adverb to use.» he murmured, but this was not what Clara wanted to hear. She tried not to be too loud, since everyone was asleep.

«So which adverb should I use?» she hissed.

He frowned.

«Clara, there is something you have to tell me?» he ventured.

«I could ask the same to you. Oh no wait: there was something you had to tell me, and you didn't. You told Jane Austen about it, but not me.» she replied, crossing her arms.

The Doctor was puzzled at first, then understood her meaning.

«I didn't know it was your business to know I had a wife.» he stated, almost ironically.

«Not my b...» she started, but her voice was too high in volume. She bit her tongue and got closer to him: even if she was barely a little more than half his height, he almost stepped back.

«You made it my business from our first kiss, from the first time you made love to me.» she murmured, her lips trembling on the last few words, more hurt now than before. Saying it out loud was different from just thinking about it.

She was sad that afternoon, than she got angry. Now, she was both.

He stood silent for a moment: he was not lost for words, he was thinking and it showed on his face. He looked away from her and sighed, as she got back to the selves stuffed with books, near the window he was looking out of.

«Me and River... it is complicated. We never meet in the right order.» he told her, with such a voice that she tried to let him finish: he sounded... hurt.

«I married her before I met you. But before that, I saw her die.» The Doctor sat at the windowsill, and continued, looking out. «She died for me, and I did my best to save her. But I cannot change what happened, not now. And I fear the day I will last see her, because then, everything will end.»

Clara's breath sounded louder than a siren in the silence that followed. She had seen him like this only just before they saved Ashildr, in the Viking's village. She had seen him like this, when he talked about herself, about loosing his Clara, one day.

«You love her.» she declared, fighting a tear.

«I am two thousand years old, Clara. Do you believe I am still capable of that?» he whispered. She sat next to him, and made him face her, with a gentle caress on his cheek.

«I believe you have loved many people in your long life, and you always will, even if it hurts so much.» she replied.

He said nothing but met her gaze.

«I am still jealous, no matter what I said to Jane. But I wanted you to tell me anyway. I don't like secrets.»

«I am made of secrets, Clara Oswald.» he reminded her. «I must correct you, even if you don't like being lectured.»

Clara frowned, but now was smiling.

«You said I loved, and I will love. But you did not say that I love, now.» he explained.

Clara was puzzled, and then felt her eyes watering in strong emotion. His smile and his eyes were eloquent. He took her hand and, gently caressing her fingers as he never did or ever will do, he ventured to continue.

«River has never seen this face, or this body, not yet anyway. I may have not spoken of her, but I have only being yours. This version of me is all yours.»

Clara moved her hand in his and intertwined their fingers.

«Until time and space do us part?» she asked. He raised his gaze to hers.

«You are not the marrying kind.» the Doctor whispered.

«I could have said the same of you until a few minutes ago... yet you wear a wedding ring.» Clara stated, slightly touching the small golden band on his finger. She was about to continue, but decided that talking was over, for now. She had the feeling they would have still time to talk, after that night. So she leaned towards him, and kissed the corner of his lips. He closed his eyes for long moments, and pretending to be forgetful about their sitting on the windowsill and exposed to the moonlight, he brought her closer to himself and kissed her back, a hand on her nape and the other around her waist.

Jane Austen, if later asked by her friends that knew the Doctor, or best that were acquainted with him, never said what had happened. She reported that the night had given her good occasion of laughing, gossip and especially drinking. That wine had brought her out in drunkenness and that made her lean over the tree just below Miss Oswald's room. The windowsill was well lit by the moon and the candles, but she swore she remembered nothing of it.

She did.

 


	6. Afterword

Bill got inside the Doctor's office with a small backpack, and, having put it down on the floor near the desk, sat in front of him.

«No tea? You've not the special clothes anymore.» she said.

He let the book he was reading down.

«No tea, no. I have stuff to do.» he explained.

«Like reading poetry books?» she ventured.

«Yeah.» the Doctor replied, standing up and getting near the TARDIS. «What's in the backpack?»

Bill picked it up.

«I meant to ask... I am moving to a new home! To live on my own!» she exclaimed. Her excitement was contagious, and the Doctor smiled a naughty smile, but then got a bit frowny.

«What did you mean to ask? My permission or something?»

Bill giggled.

«No, I just tried to put some thing in my backpack and in boxes, but I don't know how to move them there. Would you help me?» she asked.

The Doctor considered this. No harm in moving the TARDIS to take some boxes from one house to another. Nardole would not complain.

«Of course.» he simply replied. Bill burst into a joyful cry and hugged him tight for a moment, leaving him standing still while she told him a time to pick her up and got out.

He had said to somebody else he was not a hugging person. A shorter girl, the one... the one that kissed Jane Austen... Clara? Why could he not recall her face?

Every time he could only get glimpses. He concentrated on that glimpse, trying to recollect her perfume, the way her hands touched him. The Doctor looked at his hand: his ring, River, but also... a kiss, the moonlight...

He blushed, and got to the TARDIS. Better get something to do. Definitely better.

 


End file.
